Saturday, April 17, 2015 at Benny’s Cafe
100 Essays I Don’t Have Time To Write
Jackie peels the orange and lets her long legs dangle off of the top bunk. She drops the rind on the floor. “It’ll make the place smell bearable,” she says, honey-voiced. Kate flicks the bottom of Jackie’s foot. Jackie shrieks. It’s so hot neither of them can move. Kate is reading The Bible, not because she’s religious but because she wants “context.” They wear as little clothing as possible, Jackie in a sports bra and old tennis shorts and Kate in a dress that may as well be a shirt. Each says a quiet thanks that it’s their days off. “Working in this heat would actually kill me,” says Kate. Neither has the insight to realize that all of their dramatic death references connect to the fullness of their youth, pursed lips and raindrops of sweat on the curve of the lower backs. The lodge is fully booked with fishermen from now until October. Jackie works in the kitchen and Kate is a cleaner. Jackie brings Kate cans of BC salmon and leftover strawberry shortcake. Kate makes their beds, tucking a lavender sachet under Jackie’s pillow.